Nyérë ar Qualmë
by Elsendor
Summary: Two years after the War of the Ring, Lady Eowyn disappears. Faramir and Legolas go out to rescue her, and in the process they will meet a new friend. This is my first story, and still in very slow progress, so please bear with me. :
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Well…this is my very first fanfic ever. I want to warn any possible readers right from the start that, despite my ardent love for writing, I am a very very very sporadic producer. Someday when I am grown up, graduated, and all that, I'll hopefully have my own special time to do what I love most. But until then…I apologize.

I started this about two years ago, and never really got through Chapter 3. I struggle a lot with writer's block, so any help/criticism/pointers/encouragement—pretty much anything but flaming—is welcome and appreciated.

Well, with that, I hope this will end well. Wish me luck!

Rebekah

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**Disclaimer:** More than ever I wish I'd been given the skill to write a masterpiece all my own, but since that doesn't seem likely, I pretend for my own dreams and enjoyment. The characters who inhabit both my waking and sleeping dreams are (mostly) not my own; anyone recognizable comes from J.R.R. Tolkien, one of my greatest heroes and inspirations. I don't intend to gain anything from this story but some sort of writing experience and a journey through someone else's world.

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_**Nyérë ar Qualmë**_

**Chapter 1**

Sunlight glinted off cold steel as drawn blades met in a deadly, lightning-fast duel. The two warriors appeared unevenly matched, but the more slight figure fought with the inhuman grace and skill of an elf.

Legolas brought his two matched knives together in an X, catching his opponent's larger, heavier sword, allowing him to rapidly withdraw the lower blade and make a lethal stab towards the heart. Both froze for a moment, then Faramir backed away, grinning.

"Beat me again!" he exclaimed. "And in front of my wife, too." He saluted up towards a balcony above the courtyard, where Éowyn, Lady of Ithilien, stood watching.

Since the War of the Ring and the fall of Sauron, Ithilien had become a place of great beauty almost rivaling the elven forests. However, though Faramir had originally planned to restore Minas Ithil, the city remained deserted, a place still feared and avoided.

Currently, the Lord of Ithilien was staying in Minas Tirith, now once again known as Minas Anor, while planning the construction of a new city in Ithilien. He and Legolas had become fast friends in the two years since Aragorn's crowning as King Elessar.

Faramir tugged at the collar of his green tunic. "I think I'll go for a swim," he decided. "Care to come?"

Legolas shook his head, grinning. "I promised Aragorn I'd pay him a visit—that's my reason for coming in the first place. His counselors and advisors have bored him out of his mind."

His friend winced in sympathy. Though they were all glad for the long-needed peace, most had lived their entire lives in constant danger. The serene quietness of the past years had made them restless.

Faramir waved and headed off towards the stables. His elven friend watched for a moment as the young lord, still in Ranger garb, disappeared from sight. Doubtless the young human would find a band of hot, sweaty soldiers and form a water battle at the ruins of Osgiliath, where no one would see them play at war like children.

* * *

Aragorn punched his desk, toppling a bottle of ink that splattered all over. "If I get one more treaty or request to sign," he growled at the empty room, "I'll—" He struck the desk again, right in a black puddle.

"Estel?"

Arwen, queen of Gondor and Aragorn's beloved wife, stood in the doorway. Her simple white dress, which would have looked plain on any other woman, only served to emphasize her beauty. Though her face was impassive, her lovely brown eyes twinkled in amusement.

Glancing at his ink-splattered desk, the king muttered a few unintelligible excuses, then threw up his ink stained hands in surrender. Arwen smiled and walked quickly to his side. Under her patient, gentle hands, the study soon regained order.

Aragorn watched, amazed. "I don't see how you can stand all this." He gestured wildly at the study. "I enjoy reading books, and I am not opposed to writing, but this…" He looked down at the mound of papers on his desk.

A sad smile touched his wife's lips. "It grieves me, Estel, that you suffer so…you were always a warrior, ready for battle, your hands…" She took one of Aragorn's blackened hands in her own pale, slender ones. "Your hands were always stained with the blood of war. Are you not glad for peace?"

Aragorn gazed lovingly at his wife. "I am glad to be able to be with you in peace. But I fear that my heart will always long for the wild—for adventure…" He reached up and caressed her face with the cleaner of his hands. "But as long as you are with me, I think I will be able to manage."

Pulling Arwen into his arms, he kissed her gently and lovingly. She started for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his head and returned the kiss. Gazing at each other in adoration, they leaned towards each other again.

"Perhaps this is a bad time."

For the second time that day, Aragorn started and looked up at the door. Legolas peered through the half-open door, laughter written all over his face. "I think the king is shirking his duties."

The two hastily released each other as Arwen simultaneously got to her feet. "Don't tell this to anyone," Aragorn warned with mock sternness. "Heads could roll. Beautiful blond ones."

Legolas grinned and strode in with a bow to the queen. "Greetings, Lady. It is an honor to see you again." Arwen nodded graciously, trying hard to pick up the pieces of her usual formality. The prince of Mirkwood then turned to his closest friend in all Middle Earth.

"So, what is this mess? Did Gollum come and try to taste your ink? Or is this orc-blood?" A hint of mischief glittered in his sapphire-blue eyes.

Aragorn stood and embraced the elf. "It's good to see you again, _mellon nin_." His wife offered to leave them to themselves. "You've arrived at the right time, Greenleaf," she remarked. "My lord's advisors have decided they have a great need to increase their numbers. They are choosing three new counselors as we speak."

The king gazed heavenward. "And then only Ilúvatar will be able to give me some time of my own, with no one to tell me how many fish have been caught in the last month, or how fare the negotiations with the Variags of Khand." Sighing, he waved his friend into a chair. "What news from your father? How fare your people?"

Legolas sighed. "More and more of my kin are taking their leave and embarking on their journey to the Grey Havens. Though they no longer have Sauron to fear, they say our time here is ending, and that we must make way for the age of Men." Looking up, he gave a week smile. "But why do I burden you with such tidings? Shall we go and spar? Or would you rather challenge my skill with the bow?"

"Sparring, I think," Aragorn replied quickly. "Somehow I don't relish the idea of humiliating myself today."

The elf grinned. "You're out of luck. I defeated Faramir three times not one hour ago."

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**Author's Notes:** Well, you survived it. Thank you so much if you read all the way through this mess, and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Yay! Chapter 2 is here! Sorry for taking so long...I'm jointly working on a novel-wannabe, so I guess this isn't exactly top priority... I'll try to be more prolific. I hope you all enjoy it!

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**_Nyérë ar Qualmë_**

**Chapter 2**

Éowyn glared at the serene landscape below, willing it to explode with orcs, Haradrim, anything! Though she loved Faramir and wished he would find peace, the Lady of Ithilien could not deny the restlessness of her own soul.

"What ails you so, that you have become so distant?"

Faramir leaned in the doorway of their room, concern written in his gentle features. His wife turned to face him, irritated. "I am no less distant than you. I have seen; always, you sek to spar, you pore over old maps, you finger your sword."

Stung, the young lord looked away. "I am only seeking to be prepared, just in case…"

"In case what? In case the local cats get in a fight? When was the last time you had need to fight—when you were able to feel the heat and excitement of battle—" She stopped abruptly. "I have said too much."

Faramir stepped forward to take his wife's arm. "You long for battle! You find your life dull."

"No more than you!"

The young man's face reddened slightly. "I didn't mean…" He hadn't wanted to sound so accusatory—he felt the same way.

"Do not speak to me," Éowyn hissed. "Your words are poison." Pulling out of his grasp, she ran out of the room.

If Faramir had known of Grima Wormtongue, the last person his wife had said such words to, Éowyn's bitter accusation would have burned in his heart forever.

* * *

Laughing, Legolas held up his two knives in surrender. "Maybe I spoke too soon." He had been soundly defeated three times in the last two minutes. "The only reason I beat Faramir is because of the swordfighting techniques you taught me last year. Archer I may be, but I cannot hope to match Strider, Ranger of the North." 

Aragorn smiled, but a faraway look came into his grey eyes as he gazed out towards the red sun on the horizon. In a moment, he met his friend's blue ones, drawing himself up loftily. "Strider no longer, but King Elessar, Ranger of Paperwork." He laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I'm sure you were just tired out. We'll go wash up, and then try to hook you up with some fair lady, old bachelor. What say you to that?"

Legolas shuddered. "I say nay, your Highness." His gaze flicked up towards a furtive white movement in the stable nearby. "But where do you think the Lady Éowyn is going?"

The king picked up his abandoned robe, grimacing as he donned it over his tunic. "Swordfighting with the village boys, no doubt." Seeing the elf's expression of shock, he grinned. "Did you not know? The Lady of Ithilien has made personal acquaintance with every talented swordsman on this side of the river. She even beat me once."

"_She_ beat_you_?"

"I said once!" Aragorn protested hastily. "And that was because her falcon broke loose. I stopped to run and catch it, but she curbed her swing a beat too late. Her blade got me right here." He tapped his left bicep, smiling ruefully. "It was not too deep, though. Just a bit painful. It has healed completely, though I have another scar for Arwen to admire."

Legolas shook his head, bewildered, as he and his friend returned to the palace.

* * *

Éowyn waited until both had gone out of sight, then led her chestnut mare, Neäna, out of the stable. She wore a well-weathered pair of riding breeches under her woolen skirt, and her long, golden hair was tied out of the way by a leather cord. Her face, though, was hidden in the shadows of a heavy cloak. 

The horse nickered softly. "Hush girl," Éowyn chided. "No saddle today,_especially_ not a sidesaddle."

Silently, horse and mistress slipped through the crowded streets of the seven-tiered city until they reached the bottom level. The massive, dwarf-made gates were open to allow traders and villagers in and out. They made their way out unnoticed, but for a single child who followed curiously.

* * *

Summer still reigned over Middle Earth, but the ever-powerful River Anduin still flowed icy cold, not dwindling in the heat, but rather flourishing on the melting snow of the mountains. Éowyn found that the water's chill again matched her heart as it once had, in the years before she met Faramir. Even as she swam out to find peace in the ruins of Osgiliath, her heart cried out for solace. 

The young Lady of Ithilien had almost reached the island when a frightened shriek reached her ears. A little village girl, no older than seven, flailed helplessly several yards away from the shore. Panicking, the child sank beneath the blue current as Éowyn struck out swimming desperately towards her. With a sinking feeling, the Lady realized that she would never make it back in time.

"Neäna!" she called, choking down a mouthful of water as she did so. Immediately, the copper-colored horse raised its head, ears pricked expectantly towards its mistress's voice. Seeing the drowning child, it took an apprehensive step back, then plunged into the river. As the powerful creature plucked the girl out of the current, Éowyn thanked the Valar that her horse was one of Mearas of Rohan, famed for their uncanny intelligence, and began swimming back towards the ruins to rest, Neäna not far behind.

At last, she collapsed in the sand, panting heavily. Dimly she heard the rescued child yell out unintelligible expressions of delight as she was dumped unceremoniously in the shallows of the narrow beach. The girl splashed her way up the shore, crawled to Éowyn's side, and flopped onto the sand in flawless imitation of the Lady, then sat up.

"Hello lady," she greeted Éowyn gregariously. "Be you an angel? You be awful pretty…an' your horsey be awful nice."

Éowyn raised her head and cringed inwardly. She knew Aragorn tried hard to be a good king, but it was nigh impossible to properly care for every individual in Gondor. This child was living proof—skinny, shabbily dressed, and lacking good hygiene. _At least that fall in the river cleaned her up a bit_ Éowyn thought ruefully.

Sitting up with a groan, the lady of Ithilien pulled the grungy child into her lap. "Well I'm flattered that you think so," she replied gently, "but no." The girl looked up, wide-eyed. "Be you the Lady as rides with the Lord Faramir?" Éowyn nodded.

"Be you the Lady Ellowin?"

Grinning, the lady shook her head. "My name is _Éowyn_, not Ellowin. But if that's what you meant, then yes."

Immediately, the child stood up again. "I'm sorry Lady, I done got your clothes all dirty!" Laughing, Éowyn motioned for her to sit down again. "Don't worry, they were filthy already from the river." Solemnly, the child sat again, though on the sand this time.

"Tell me," Éowyn inquired, "What is your name?"

Immediately brightening, the girl fairly shouted "Lonna!" and promptly returned to Éowyn's lap. "I ken say my letters now, Lady. D'you want to hear?" The Lady groaned inside, but allowed Lonna to continue.

On the far side of the river, a small band of warriors, dark as the new moon, watched from the shelter of the foliage. Though the Haradrim had decreased in number, many still roamed the lands of Middle Earth, fierce and dangerous as always. None, however, had dared to rise up against the reign of King Elessar.

* * *

Hashim of the Fox Tribe carefully surveyed the situation. No one else seemed to be about—just the lady and the child. Turning to the scout standing at attention beside him, he let out an exasperated breath. _This boy can't be older than sixteen_, he thought sadly. Since his peoples' defeat in the War of the Ring, they had been forced to recruit every male available in order to maintain a substantial army. As a result, most half of the twenty-seven men in Hashim's band were still young and untried. The Falcon mark of the Warrior was still new to their flesh, a painful burn embedded deep into each boy's right shoulder. 

"What is it, Adli?" The large, dark warrior carefully roughened his voice to mask the sadness that lay within.

"Sir, I…that is…" the boy stuttered nervously. He stiffened under his superior's stern, unblinking gaze. "There's no one else there. Only a horse."

Hashim nodded, pleased. "Make sure the beast does not escape. The others might be made suspicious far too soon should it return riderless."

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**Author's Notes:** I personally liked the first chapter better, but now that Éowyn's in danger, I figure it'll improve next chapter. Thanx for reading, and Please Review! 

Elsendor (Rebekah)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Summer break between my junior and senior year, and it's been a really long time...this chapter isn't actually finished, but I had a need to submit _something_ after my long absence. I would blame my mother, for keeping me to my schoolwork, but that would be just plain mean as it's all for my own good. In reality it's been a long-standing addiction to many many social networking sites all at once. Which I am over now, thank God.

My writing is still very short--I have a hard time lengthening without weighing things down, but please bear with me, and if you have any advice on long, lean chapters, please send a message by me.

That through, thank you if you're actually reading this after my unfaithfulness!!

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_**Nyérë ar Qualmë**_

**Chapter 3  
**

Legolas bolted upright in bed, senses all on the alert. The long years of the past had tuned his body to react to the slightest sound, movement, or anything amiss. Within three seconds of waking, he realized that the room was uncomfortably stuffy and humid, that the sun had barely begun to rise, and that a loud, urgent knocking was coming from the door.

Rubbing his knuckles into his heavy eyelids, the elf reached out and uncovered the lighted candle on the bedside table. Though he had been received countless reprimands from Aragorn for leaving a candle on at night, this was a habit he had never managed to break, hammered into him by more dangerous times. He automatically lifted his Lórien bow from its hooks, slipping on his quiver.

With nimble, light fingers, he elf opened the door to find Faramir, about to knock again. The young human's features were pale and drawn, as though he had not slept a minute. "By the Valar, mellon nin—" Legolas began, but his friend cut him off with a pleading look.

"Legolas, please," he exclaimed, agitated. "Éowyn is missing…Have you seen her?"

The elf took a small step back from that desperate gaze. "Not since last night…" He remembered seeing Éowyn sneaking out the night before. "She did not return from the city?" He did not know of any danger that could befall her in these uneventful times, but for Faramir's sake, he said slowly, "She left the palace yesterday evening, I figured she had desire for a sparring partner…"

The young lord threw him an accusing look. "You let her go?"

Irritated, Legolas snapped, "Was I to stop said lady and tell her she had no free will of her own? You know your own wife—you know she hates to be restricted in any way." Faramir started to protest, indignant, but the elf continued hotly. "Besides, you never detained her evening excursions before. How was anyone to know tonight would be different? What happened between you two, that you suddenly seek to control the bird you once set free?"

Faramir looked up with a startled expression. "I don't try to control her…" But he knew it was a lie. His pride had been hurt, and he was taking it out in anger towards his friends. "I am sorry, Legolas." He glanced towards the elf's bow, raised his eyes up to the arrows that sprouted up behind his friend's shoulder. "You are not complacent, either." It was not a question, but an observation that he related to, before his sense of urgency returned. "Forgive me, my friend—" He turned to leave.

"Wait," Legolas urged him. "I will go with you." He swiftly strapped on his belt and bracers, threw on a cloak, and lifted his ever-ready traveling pack, blowing out the candle as he returned to the doorway. Faramir gave a weak grin.

"To find Éowyn?"

"To find Éowyn. A friend of mine need never be alone."

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**Author's Notes:** Just a reminder, this is definitely not all there is to this chapter...just my itch to put up what I'd managed to write of it. Maybe now that I'm older than I was when this was written, I might be able to flesh it and the previous chapters out a bit...and improve... Such is my hope.

- Elsendor


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